


The Heart Wants

by EliMorgan



Series: Shots and Shorts [2]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Crossover, Cute Kids, F/M, Family Fluff, Roll-A-Drabble
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-02
Updated: 2018-07-02
Packaged: 2019-06-01 09:55:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15140606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EliMorgan/pseuds/EliMorgan
Summary: Phil thinks he knows what he wants from life, and it's all under one roof. Luna knows better.





	The Heart Wants

**Author's Note:**

> **I do not own the works made use of herein, none of the Harry Potter/Marvel universe features or characters belong to me. I make no money from this work.**
> 
>  
> 
> Written for June's Roll-A-Drabble in the Marvelously Magical Fanfiction Facebook Group: I was given Luna Lovegood/Phil Coulson, with 'Family' as a trope...
> 
> Is this late? I feel like it might be late.  
> Ah, well. Here goes nothing!  
> Enjoy!  
> -Eli x

Phil stepped through the door, flexing his bruised fist and gritting his teeth as pain radiated up his arm into his chest. His dislocated shoulder had already been fixed back at base though he’d left before they even noticed his fractured wrist. Being back in the country reminded him that he had higher priorities than his health.

He shucked his shoes and left his coat by the door, limping down the hallway toward the stairs. _I’m getting too old for this_ , he acknowledged to himself. Each time it took him longer to heal _._ The missions were harder.

He’d spend more time at home, he promised himself. Not just this house, but wherever he landed. Home was where the heart was, after all, and his heart loved to travel. Montreal, Giza, Ekaterinburg, the wilds of the Amazon to the glass-tipped spires of Dubai; she’d spent the last fifteen years flitting across the globe, seemingly on a whim, possessed of more energy than Phil could ever remember having himself. Until two years ago, and the pregnancy, she’d been home as infrequently as Phil had.

His team had disapproved, believing he needed someone stable to provide the homestead he desperately needed. _That_ had lasted as long as their first meeting with her. Phil had stood smugly on the side lines as Luna braided flower crowns into Melinda and Fitz’s hair, danced some Gaelic jig with Skye and Jemma and generally enchanted the lot of them into her loyal acolytes (and also into volunteering for future-babysitting duty. She was _that_ good).

He loved her. Sometimes she freaked him out (on their first date she’d informed him they would have twins, and also that he’d look even better grey) but he loved her, and that was all that mattered – to both of them, even if they weren’t able to spend as much time together as they’d like.

Half-way up the stairs, he began to hear noises. The low, soothing hum of his wife’s singing. The clattering of toys on a wooden board. The high-pitched giggle of a child. One after the other spurred him onward, until he was leaned against the doorframe of the nursery, satisfaction with his life replacing the anxious muddle his thoughts had left.

Luna sat cross-legged on the floor, her back to him, as she sang a children’s song and clapped along to the tune. Before her lay their twins: tiny Pandora on her stomach, gurgling gleefully as she snatched at her mother’s hands; Peter rocking back and forth on his bottom while he mouthed a toddler’s approximation of the melody. At his appearance, Pandora suddenly switched her gaze to his face and let out a joyful cry of “da-da!”. She flailed her legs to get them under her enough to crawl. “Da-da home!”

Her brother favoured Phil with a solemn look out of eyes the exact match of his father’s. “Da-da?” he repeated quizzically.

“Daddy’s home,” Luna confirmed without turning. “Just in time for Mummy to stop him dying of septicaemia.”

Phil hid a smile behind a suitably repentant expression as he crossed the room to drop down next to her. “And he’s ever grateful, too,” he told them, leaning over to kiss her pale cheek and offering his injured wrist forward.

Luna grinned, simple joy at his company visible in her eyes as she took his hand in hers. The crack of the bone’s repair was drowned out by Peter’s grunting as he clambered up into Phil’s lap, plopping himself down with an exhausted huff. Phil kissed Luna softly in thanks, running a hand over Peter’s downy head and laughing when Pandora headbutted him for equal attention.

“Good trip?” Luna asked guilelessly, giggling and pulling Pandora into her arms when the little girl scowled at Phil for laughing at her. “Bad da-da!” his daughter cried, jabbing him angrily in the arm.

“Successful,” Phil replied with a wry look. He laughed again, feeling free, as his son pulled curiously at his lip. With a slight lisp from his son’s manipulation of his flesh, he added, “I’m glad to be home.”

* * *

It was later that night, after a chaotic evening of feeding and cleaning their children, that Phil laid in bed next to his wife and came to a decision. Battling Pandora over the carrots and convincing Peter that there were no sharks in the bath had been stressful, but fulfilling. Catching his wife’s eye over the top of these events had been blissful. Lying in bed next to her was a luxury he couldn’t believe he’d ever deny himself.

“I’m retiring,” he announced to the canopy over the bed. Luna, curled into his chest, let out a snicker. Phil frowned. “Why are you laughing?”

“Oh, Phil,” she hummed, nuzzling into his chest. “As you say.”

Frowning even harder, he poked her in the ribs. “I’m _retiring_ ,” he repeated, firmly. “I’m going to stay here, spend more time with my family. With you.”

Luna let out another disbelieving giggle-snort, but at least deigned to look at him. “Phil, that’s what you said a month ago.” she chastised gently. Shaking her head, she chuckled at the look in his eyes. “They _are_ your family,” she told him, drawing the words out as though he was particularly lacking in intelligence. “Just as much as we are.”

“But-” He was cut off by Luna slapping a hand over his mouth. “I’m sleeping now,” she informed him, as exasperated as she ever got. “Hush.” Then, she curled up against him and did just that, her hand still trapping his mouth shut.

 _I’m retiring!_ He mouthed determinedly against her palm, convincing absolutely no-one.

 


End file.
